


Mine the Blushing Rose of May

by Elenchus



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 11:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenchus/pseuds/Elenchus
Summary: "At the period of his most abject misery, [Marius] had observed that young girls turned round when he passed by, and he fled or hid, with death in his soul. He thought that they were staring at him because of his old clothes, and that they were laughing at them; the fact is, that they stared at him because of his grace, and that they dreamed of him.""This mute misunderstanding between him and the pretty passers-by had made him shy. He chose none of them for the excellent reason that he fled from all of them. He lived thus indefinitely,—stupidly, as Courfeyrac said."-Les Misérables, 3.6.1Marius misunderstands the reactions he elicits from strangers; Courfeyrac endeavors to correct his error.





	Mine the Blushing Rose of May

“My dear, what has you so out of sorts?”

Marius paused in the act of taking off his coat and stared fixedly at the wall where Courfeyrac wasn’t. “Nothing of importance,” he muttered.

Courfeyrac gave his favorite skeptically quizzical glance, confident in its power even with such a recalcitrant and backwards-facing object. A few moments of skeptically quizzical silence bore his thesis out.

Marius fidgeted uncomfortably for a bit, then threw up his hands, still in apparent rapt fascination with the coat rack. “Very well, if you’re going to be so insistent about it! There is a gaggle of chattering schoolgirls outside your door, and as I passed by I saw one point at me then turn to her friends to whisper and laugh. It should not bother me, I know, and did not the first time it happened. But when young mothers hide their faces behind fans as I pass by, or laundresses stare and smile, and such things happen daily, I cannot help but be sensible to the insult! I cannot help it that my coat is old or my shoes worn. Simple black may not be the fashion, but I do not wear it without cause! I do not seek the approval of strangers, but it is wearing to so openly receive their disdain!’”

Courfeyrac couldn’t help himself; Marius had worked himself up into a true passion, and Courfeyrac struggled in vain to hold back the peals of (admittedly ungentlemanly) laughter bubbling out of him. That, at last, left Marius no choice but to turn and glare at him. 

“My dear fellow, I hate to be the bearer of such dire news, but I’m afraid you’ve quite mistaken the situation,” said Courfeyrac, once he had caught his breath. “The trouble is simply that you’re too handsome! The ladies of town do not lower their eyes in disdain, but to hide admiring blushes. Your schoolgirls are not whispering about the age of your coat, but rather the masculine beauty of your profile.” Marius stared at him in open disbelief, and Courfeyrac laughed again.

“Lower your skeptical brows, Adonis! You have been trained as a scholar; let us take scholarly inventory. Your forehead is high and broad, as in fashion.” He tapped a finger lightly in the center of Marius forehead, and then moved it down to the tip of his nose. “A clean line; pure without being severe. Just what a sculptor would wish for his creation.” The finger traced a semicircle around Marius right eye. “A deep brown, warm and cool by turns. Forbidding then inviting – how could any woman resist that mystery?” Down to his cheekbones: “An excellent frame, pronounced without harshness, rosy but not reddened. A maiden’s color with a manly shape. And here–” Courfeyrac’s finger dipped down to Marius’ lower lip and brushed across it, slowly, back and forth as he spoke “–here is the pièce de résistance. A perfect crimson, full and lush, brushed with nature’s own cosmetics. A mouth that would make any lady from humble grisette to society matron fall at your feet and beg to be kissed.”

Marius breaths were coming shallow and quick, his eyes fixed on Courfeyrac as if he couldn’t look away. “If that’s the case,” he asked, breathless yet still a touch petulant, “why haven’t _you_ kissed me? Why, in point of fact, aren’t you kissing me right now?”

“ _Damned_ if I know,” said Courfeyrac, with sincere feeling. He felt quite on the verge of falling at Marius’ feet and begging to be kissed himself. The weight of Marius’ gaze was hypnotic, and Courfeyrac leaned in closer without consciously intending to. “Marius, I –“

Marius saved Courfeyrac the task of finishing that statement by tackling him with a kiss.


End file.
